


To End The War

by regdog



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-06-22 09:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15578514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regdog/pseuds/regdog
Summary: The Autobot Decepticon War raged for millions of years, destroying their home planet of Cybertron. Now on Earth, a planet with unlimited resources, can the war ever be over?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story for a friend. He isn't a follower of Transformers and asked I write a story that explains who the Autobots and Decepticons are, while telling their story here on Earth.
> 
> ::comm speak::  
> -bond speak-

Prowl sat in his vehicle mode outside the Ark. It was now two days past Special Ops expected return. Casting a wide sweep with his sensors, nothing registered. On guard duty, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe eyed the Second in Command. The frontline Twins approached.

“Red has his scanners sweeping as far as their range reaches,” Sideswipe offered.

“They’ll come back. Jazz always comes back,” Sunstreaker added, sounding certain.

“I know,” the police cruiser said with an audible sigh. “I just can’t shake the feeling I’m missing something in the intel and Jazz, Mirage, Hound and Bumblebee are going to pay the price for it.” 

With a gentleness that belied Sunstreaker’s fearsome, but well earned reputation among both Decepticons, and Autobots, he lightly caressed Prowl’s door. A shudder rippled across the police cruiser, and he transformed into rootmode. He cast a stern glare at the golden frontliner.

“Molesting a superior officer is an offense that can see you serving brig time, Sunstreaker.”

“Guilty as charged and unrepentant, Sir,” Sunstreaker said, smug smirk firmly in place.

“Only Red saw, Prowl,” Sideswiped added, stepping behind the SIC. “And he doesn’t care, and would never say anything anyway.”

With a worn, defeated sigh and thunk, Prowl dropped his head on Sunstreaker’s chestplating; his red chevron stinging with the harsh contact. Gently, Sideswipe rubbed between Prowl’s rigid doorwings. The officer’s tension causing them to creak with strain.

“They’re up to something and I’m missing it,” Prowl muttered. 

“Love, you’ll put the pieces together and figure out what the ‘Cons are up to. You always do. Remember their failed strike at Simfur, back in the early days of the war. All tactical said Megatron was heading for an assault on Polihex, but you saw the one piece of intel everyone else was missing. You put the puzzle together and we held Simfur.”

“That was eons ago, Sideswipe, and in the end, we lost Simfur,” Prowl countered. Despite the Twins reassurances and affection, Prowl’s engine whined in distress. His only solace was they were alone, minus the ever present, watchful Red Alert, but as Sideswipe said, the Director of Security never spoke of any of the ‘Bots personal activities or attachments.

“Five vorns later, with minimal civilian casualties. You saved millions, Prowl.” Sunstreaker placed a kiss on each chevron tip. “Go on, get some energon and try and rest. We’re off in a groon. We’ll join you in our quarters.”

“My quarters---”

“Have a terminal that connects to your office terminal, Teletraan and Red’s security feeds. You won’t get any rest. I’ll make Sunny go with you. Him strong. Him carry you over shoulder like caveman.”

“Don’t call me Sunny and why in the Pit are you talking like a moron?” 

Prowl chuckled at his mates and straightened.

“Straight for energon and to our room. Baby brother is watching and will report to us if you deviate one step,” Sunstreaker warned.

“Red Alert is not your younger brother.” Prowl corrected.

“He’s younger than us, smaller than us and another styling Lamborghini. He’s our brother from another mother.”

::Stop with the stupid earth sayings:: Red Alert’s voice chirped over the three’s comms.

Sideswipe laughed, blowing a kiss to the security camera. Prowl took one Twin’s servo into each of his own and pressed them to his chestplates, over his sparkchamber. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Lead a dull, uninteresting, but more restful life,” Sideswipe answered.

Giving each servo one last squeeze, Prowl forced himself not to turn and give one last scan, but enter the Ark. He felt the Twin’s gazes stay on him until he disappeared from sight. In his spark, Prowl knew they would comm him the instant Red’s sensors pick up anything.

Entering the rec room, the silence was telling. Mechs were gathered in small groups, but there was none of the usual boisterous laughing, cajoling or mayhem that was the norm. Now they spoke in hushed tones, an air of worry hung over the room.

“Anything, Prowl?” Bluestreak asked, his doorwings flitting with nervous energy.

“I detected nothing, but Red’s scanners are more powerful and he will alert us.” Prowl’s spark ached for his adopted creation. While Bluestreak’s relationship with Jazz was relatively new, the saboteur and sniper had always been close. The nervous, emotionally damaged Praxian, found solace with the good-natured, but deadly Jazz. While Jazz found peace and stability in Bluestreak’s overly chatty presence.

“Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are on guard duty and nothing escapes their notice,” Prowl added, hoping it would help. Terrifying though they were, the Twin’s presence and loyalty to the Autobots, was a comfort the rest of the faction relied on. 

Ratchet entered the rec room. The medic’s usual scowl firmly in place. He gave a cursory glance around the room and stomped over to the energon dispenser. Drawing a cube, he emptied it in three long gulps. The medic saw the cube in Prowl’s servos and nodded. Both were known for their dedication to their work, even at the expense of their health. Each having nearly dropped into stasis lock from low energon levels.

“Joining us, Ratch?” Ironhide asked, from where he sat with Wheeljack and Optimus.

“Medbay---”

“Is fully prepped and watched over by First Aid, “ Optimus said, sliding a chair out for the medic.

With a huff, Ratchet plopped into the chair, in an inelegant sprawl. “I don’t need to be babysat.”

“Of course, old friend,” Optimus said. “We enjoy your company, and will always take the opportunity to have it when you are not in med bay.”

With a grump Ratchet sat next to Prime, the leader gently nudging the medic.

************************

 

Prowl silently slipped from the rec room and hesitated once in the hall. One glance at the security camera and he nodded, heading for the Twin’s room. Well, all three of theirs really. The room was even larger than any of the officers. Due to the Twins numerous and vocal fights, the rooms on both sides of theirs were unoccupied. The pair had busted through the walls to add then to their assigned room. In addition, they had incorporated the part of Mt St Hilary that had torn a gapping hole in the Ark when the ship crashed millions of years ago. Sunstreaker used the cool, cavern for painting, and sculpting. Another added benefit of the cavern, it gave the room access to the inner mountain, kept their room temperate all year round.

Entering the room, he drew a deep invent, Prowl sighed and sat on the oversized couch. The lingering scents in the room, tingling his olfactory sensors giving him comfort. This room, as opposed to his assigned one, held the rich scent of Sunstreaker’s expensive waxes and exotic paints. In addition to the many additives Sideswipe used to brew his infamous high-grade. Of course, he also was happy to spice up any ‘Bots regular energon with their favorite flavorings or extras. Prowl himself relished the sharp, tang of copper and tungsten and no matter how many times he watched Sideswipe prepare it, he could never get the mixture right.

He swirled his energon cube and mused over their relationship. He couldn’t lie to himself, he had been shocked when the beautiful frontliners entered his office, in the early days if the war and made their blunt offer. They wanted him, both of them, if he wanted them. They were willing to accept a one night fling, casual interfacing, friendship or serious relationship. It was Prowl’s choice.

Being largely disliked by the majority of Autobots because of his aloof nature, Prowl did not have many chances at any sort of relationship, casual or otherwise. It was only thanks to Jazz’s love of gossip, Prowl knew the former gladiators were highly sought after berth partners, even though they were notoriously anti-social, as well as violent. He also knew the Twins hadn’t taken anyone up on their multitudes of offers.

Tired of being alone and genuinely interested in Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, Prowl said he would accept their offer, but only in private and they would just take the relationship cycle by cycle and see what, if anything developed. 

Their first “date” was the three meeting in an unused training room. Sideswipe brought his legendary high grade and from his subspace, flavorings to mix in for Prowl’s enjoyment. To his delight, Prowl found easy conversation flowed between the three and when Sunstreaker was at a loss for words, Sideswipe effortlessly picked up the slack. 

The brothers talked of their time in the gutters and Gladiator Pits of Kaon. Abandoned as younglings, they survived on the streets together. Stealing, fighting and conning whatever they needed. They made their way to the Pits and there, they found steady work and credits. With steady credits, they got a small place, where Sunstreaker began drawing. Sideswipe willing took extra matches, to buy Sunstreaker paint and metalocanvas, as the golden twin began to delve deeper into his art.

Prowl opened up about his past in Praxus. A cold, selfish carrier, made his and his sire’s life a smelter. His sire was a kind and loving mech, but sadly he lacked the emotional strength to stand up to his belligerent mate and slowly that union fell apart. One day Prowl’s sire sent him a comm, he loved him but that love wasn’t enough to sustain him in that life of misery any more. His sire left and Prowl had to cope with his carrier alone. That was in part what drove Prowl to be silent, in movement and emotion. His carrier fed off reaction like a sharkticon smelling spilt energon.

As he grew older, Prowl mastered quiet, unemotional reserve and reaction. His lack of outward of his carrier’s rages seemed to infuriate and unhinge the unstable mech even more. He over indulged in high grade and stims, and lashed out physically at Prowl for any infraction, real or imagined. When Prowl was of age, he applied to the Praxus Enforcer Academy and was accepted. Without another word to his carrier, he left. While he was never sure, he believed his carrier offlined during the Decepticons’ razing of Praxus. As for his long absent sire, Prowl never knew his fate.

That simple evening of just talking and sipping high grade convinced Prowl he wanted more than just a one night stand or fling with the Twins. He wanted everything they were willing offer, for as long as they would offer.

 

More dates followed the first and Prowl found himself looking forward to each one. With every passing joor, he was falling more and more for the Twins. Being two halves of the same spark, the Twins each possessed certain personality traits. Sideswipe was gregarious, talkative and spontaneous. While Sunstreaker was introspective, serious and Prowl wouldn’t say cautious, be the golden Twin weighed his options versus their outcome, more than Sideswipe.

It was painfully obvious to Prowl why most mechs wrongly thought Sunstreaker was antisocial. The truth was, the mech just didn’t have that part of their split personality. But when Prowl listened and observed both, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker together and apart, he could see how Sunstreaker communicated and made his feelings and thoughts known. His actions, his loyalty, his art were his words.

One cycle Prowl entered his office. Sitting at his desk, he picked up the first data pad from the ever present pile. Flipping it on, he smiled as Sunstreaker’s elegant scrawl greeted him. The message was simple and Prowl’s spark spun wildly in his chassis, there were two glyphs _Love You _. Those two glyphs, written in their red, gold, black and white, made Prowl happier than he believed he could be. He would find a way to end the war, if for no other reason than to keep the Twins safe.__

____

____

 

A touch to his doorwing snapped Prowl out of his musing with a jerk, his forgotten energon cube hitting the deck.

“Where were you?” Sideswipe quietly asked, picking up the empty cube, and placing it on the low table.

“Remembering us, when we met, when you asked me out. Finding out you loved me.”

“Easiest and hardest thing I’ve ever written,” Sunstreaker said. “We knew how much we loved you, and Sides was sure you felt the same, but---” Sunstreaker trailed off, sitting next to his mate, and enveloping him in his arms.

“Not knowing how the other feels is terrifying enough. Risking finding out” Prowl added for him.

“Totally worth it,” Sideswipe finished, snuggling into Prowl’s other side. His fingers interlacing with Sunstreaker’s.

The quiet moment was broken by the chirping of three comms. Red Alert calling. Jazz’s team had just crossed into his scanner range.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Special Ops returns

A small group had gathered outside medbay. Perceptor was engrossed in a datapad, sometimes making notations. To anyone who didn’t know the Chief Science Officer, he would appear oblivious to anything else. To those who knew him however, his lack of focus was evident. His shoulder mounted periscope twitched at every sound and his lips moved rapidly over what he was reading.

Trailbreaker sat a slight distance from the others. The large, bulky Defensive Strategist always believed his size was a hindrance, leaving him convinced he was in the way too much.

Cliffjumper and Wingcharger had stopped by to check on Bumblebee. “Don’t worry, Trail, minibots are tougher than our size would indicate. Bee will be fine.”

“Thanks, Windcharger, I wish I could stop worrying about him. I’ll comm as soon as I know something.”

Windcharger gave Trailbreaker’s shoulder strut a reassuring squeeze, and then he and Cliffjumper departed.

More Autobots stopped by to check on the Special Ops team. Each gave words of encouragement and support to those whose lovers were currently under Ratchet, Wheeljack and First Aid’s care.

“Easy does it, Baby Blue. Ratchet will let you know when you can go in,” Sideswipe said, gently guiding Bluestreak away from the medbay doors for the fourteenth time.

“I am not a baby and I don’t need you patronizing me,” the sniper hissed, wings flaring wide in agitation.

“You’ve been our baby since the day Sides and I dug you out of the rubble. Prowl raising you as his, only cemented that,” Sunstreaker said, taking no offense at Bluestreak’s open hostility.

“Prowl’s in there and he doesn’t matter to anyone!”

“He’s in there as Second in Command and Chief Tactical Officer. He matters to you, and us,” Sunstreaker said, gently folding Bluestreak in an enveloping embrace, mindful of the younger mech’s twitching doorwings. 

“He does not,” Bluestreaker countered, lurching out of Sunstreaker’s embrace and punching the mech square in the chestplates. 

Trailbreaker and Perceptor looked bewildered and concerned, as the younger mech punched Sunstreaker half a dozen more times. Countless Decepticons had their sparkchambers torn from their chassis, and more than one Autobot had found themselves in Ratchet’s medbay, courtesy of Sunstreaker, for lesser offenses. 

Sideswipe only stepped back and shrugged.

Despite hitting Sunstreaker with all his strength, Bluestreak did little more than scuff the frontliner’s, thick plating. Indulgent, patient and unprovoked, Sunstreaker did nothing, but fold the sniper back into his embrace.

“Feel better? Jazz will be fine. He was able to get back under his own power.”

“It’s okay to be scared, Blue,” Sideswipe said, rubbing his doorwings.

“I’m so tired of being scared. I’ve been scared all my life.”

A pained look passed between the Twins. There was no way to disagree with Bluestreak. The young sniper had been a sparkling when his home city, Praxus, was destroyed. He was dug from the rubble, one cyberweek after the attack. The sparkling was protected in a pocket created by his deceased carrier’s frame. Weak, injured and starving, he was rushed to Ratchet. The Twins refusing to leave, until they were sure the sparkling was stable. 

Bluestreak survived, and latched on to his fellow Praxian, Prowl. The SIC adored and cherished him. Bluestreak grew up on military bases, in the middle of a war. Sure, Prowl and the Twins had done everything possible to shield the mechling as much as possible, but the Twins suffering injuries was inevitable and the destruction of Praxus had scarred Bluestreak beyond repair. 

Horrific memory purges, plagued the young mech even millions of vorns later. He couldn’t recharge in the dark, even his incessant talking was a side effect of the attack. Desperate to avoid the silence that followed the attack, Blue needed constant noise, so he talked.

Medbay doors opened, causing Blue to jump.

“Jazz---”

“Will be fine,” First Aid said, poking his head out. “You can all come in now.”

Bluestreak hurried into Medbay, skirting Prowl without meeting his optics, as he rushed to Jazz’s medberth. He laced his fingers through the saboteur’s. Trailbreaker made his way to Bumblebee’s berth, while Perceptor went to Hound.

Optimus stood off to the side. His presence calming, despite the concern in his optics.

“You’re scuffed,” Prowl said, as Sunstreaker approached.

“Sides is a jerk.”

“Hmm,” Prowl murmured. He turned back to the Special Ops team. Ratchet stood beside Mirage, his servo stroking the mech’s helm. The former Noble in medical induced recharge. “I will be back tomorrow.”

Bluestreak shrugged noncommittally and said nothing.

“S’all good, my mech,” Jazz slurred drowsily.

“Prime, Ratchet, if you have any need of me, just comm,” Prowl said.

“Get some rest, Prowl,” Optimus said.

“Take your own advice, Optimus,” Ratchet snarked. “And you, stay out of your office,” he directed to Prowl.

Prowl nodded and left with the Twins beside him.

 

*****************  
“Didn’t I tell you to get some rest?” Ratchet not so much asked Optimus, but demanded. “And you go with him.” He addressed Wheeljack.

“I---yes, I’ll go, but comm if you need anything, or if there are any changes to their conditions,” Optimus said.

“Before you go, would you move that berth next to Jazz’s. Blue will recharge better next to him, and I don’t want him trying to recharge sitting up. He’ll torque his doorwings.

“Perceptor, will you be staying?”

“Yes, thank you, Ratchet, but in altmode, I can fit quite comfortably on the berth with Hound, and won’t need a separate berth.”

Optimus slid the appointed medberth over and Bluestreak climbed on and laid next to Jazz; never letting the other’s servo go. “Bluestreak, would you like a cube of energon before I go?”

“Yes, he would,” Ratchet answered.

Optimus drew seven cubes from the medbay dispenser, handing one each to Blue, Ratchet, Wheeljack, Perceptor and First Aid, and two to Trailbreaker. “I shall see you tomorrow.”

He left medbay with Wheeljack, who subspaced his energon cube. First Aid followed the two out and headed to his quarters.

“Grouch.” A cultured voice chided.

“Phht,” Ratchet snorted. “Someone has to be or that one, Wheeljack and Prowl would never look after themselves.” He caressed Mirage’s weld lines, with a gentleness that belied his mask of annoyance. “How do you feel?”

“I ache.”

“Would you like another pain rectifier?”

“Please.”

Opening the spy’s medical port, Ratchet inserted the pain rectifying chip, and Mirage sighed in relief.

“Rest, I’ll be here,” the medic said.

Mirage fell back into recharge, his helm turned into Ratchet’s touch.

Bumblebee remained in medical recharge, Trailbreaker behind him, now curled around the scout.

“You okay, Blue,” Jazz asked, still drowsy.

“I am now. You can’t scare me like that again.”

“Wasn’t the plan.”

“I can’t lose you. Promise me you won’t leave me,” the sniper begged, his vocal range rising is distress.

“Blue.”

“Please, Jazz. Please don’t leave me. I can’t lose you. Please.”

Slowly Jazz cupped Bluestreak’s faceplate. “Blue, if I could promise to always return I would. But I swear to you, as long as I have one pulse left in my spark, my only thought and function will be coming back to you.”

Bluestreak nodded, snuggling as close to Jazz as he dare, without hurting the mech. Jazz rested his helm against Bluestreak’s throat cables, rubbing his sensory horns under the younger mech’s chin.

*******************

“Sideswipe’s servos are black. Bluestreak’s however are grey,” Prowl said, tracing the scuffs on Sunstreaker’s chestplate, as the three walked back to their quarters.

“Stress relief.” Sunstreaker said.

“Fear.” Sideswipe said as the same time.

The three fell silent until they entered their quarters. Prowl and Sunstreaker flopping tiredly on the couch, while Sideswipe retrieved a polishing cloth and wax. Kneeling between Sunstreaker’s legs, Sideswipe began buffing out the scratches.  


“Anything you can talk about?” Sunstreaker asked.

Prowl wanted to tell his mates everything he had learned. He wanted to share it with them, knowing they would shoulder the burden and worry with him, but couldn’t. As frontliners the risk of them being captured was too high. After millennia of war, it was no secret the three were involved, and tough as the Twins were to abuse and torture, their processors were not upgraded as Prowl’s was. They could be hacked and every micron of what they knew laid bare for the Decepticons.

“Only that Shockwave is now on Earth, and by all indications, he is now here permanently.”

“So either the femmes defeated Shockwave and now hold Cybertron or they are dead, and either by decay and deterioration, or destruction from the final battles, Cybertron is now dead beyond any hope of restoration.” Sideswipe surmised, as he stopped buffing the now nonexistent scratches from his twin's armor plating.

“Sides, if the femmes won, we’d be having a party right now,” Sunstreaker said quietly.”

“Maybe Special Ops weren’t able to get that news.”

The Twins looked at Prowl, he was impassive to the point of being a blank slate.

“Oh, fucking hell. Elita’s whole team.” Sideswipe whimpered, his helm falling on Sunstreaker’s knee.

“And that’s what you can share,” Sunstreaker said, causing Sideswipe to whimper again.

Prowl tangled his fingers with Sunstreaker’s as they stroked over Sideswipe’s helm. They sat that way until the sun began to rise and Prowl finally broke the silence.

“Blue’s relationship with Jazz is both a blessing and a curse. He is ridiculously happy with Jazz, but being involved with the Head of Special Ops is precarious at best. There have been so many days I wished they never took up with each other.

“Though I love Jazz like a brother, I want to punch the energon out of him because of Blue. He doesn’t need that kind of worry in his life. Hasn’t the war done enough to him, that now he has to worry about whether or not he ever sees his lover again?” Prowl quietly confessed, though anger did trickle through.

“Would being alone be any better an option?” Sideswipe asked.

“You don’t think Sides and I worry about what will happen to you, if we fall?” Sunstreaker asked. Neither Twin fazed by Prowl’s non sequitur comment. One thing they knew, their sparkmate was never random, no matter what he said or did.

Prowl opened his mouthplates to answer but didn’t.

“I need to end this Primus forsaken war,” Prowl finally snapped, surging to his pedes.

“Can you?” Sideswipe asked, truly curious, holding tight to Sunstreaker’s servo.

“I could have ended this war millennia ago, if it weren’t for one very large, very insufferable obstacle.”

“Megatron?” the Twins asked in unison.

“Optimus Prime.”

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. Please feel free to point out any mistakes.


End file.
